


kinesthetic

by iimpavid



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Domme Juno is the Forbidden Truth, Established Relationship, F/M, Other, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:55:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iimpavid/pseuds/iimpavid
Summary: Just a little thing I wrote last year and forgot to post. I've lost a whole lot of shame since then.
Relationships: Juno Steel/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	kinesthetic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voidteatime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidteatime/gifts).



Pomp and circumstance and role-play and protocol take effort. A lot of it. All this planning and an investment of time and money that Juno can’t afford, really. He’s the more hands-on type, anyway. 

Every once in a while though, when the mood strikes, a lady feels like jazzing things up, like getting fancy, and  _ Hieron _ , well. They like coming along for the ride. Something about screaming pink nylon rope just suits them. 

Because the thing about Hieron is: they’re patient. Not just grace-under-pressure patient, either. More like should-be-beatified-by-the-intragalactic-oratory patient. Could-wait-out-a-boulder patient. Can’t-possibly-be-human patient. But if Juno’s good at one thing it’s trying people’s patience. He needs to know where Hieron’s bottoms out. He’s  _ gagging  _ for it. And that takes planning. 

The carefully curated collection of rope in the crates in the back of his closet is 90% of his planning. 

(Improvisation counts as a plan if you decide you’re going to improvise ahead of time.)

He’s more the hands-on type, anyway. Hands on hands on jaw on waist on thighs— he’s not picky. Anything he can do to get Hieron to match the pretty pink rope he spends the half hour after dinner dressing them in. 

It’s tempting, after all that, to sit back and admire his own handiwork. It’s not like they’re in a hurry so… he does: sits back on his heels between Hieron’s legs and … admires.

“See something you like,  _ madame _ ?” 

They wink up at him, attempt a wiggle of their hips that would have been salacious  _ if they could move _ , and smile like they meant to spend the evening like this: disheveled and leaving glitter smeared across their floor. Like they’ve got the upper hand. Who knows? Maybe they do in their tight web of nylon dug just deep enough into their skin from shoulders to knees. It made a solid foundation for everything that came next: ankles lashed to thighs, arms latticed down their sides— only their hands were free to grip at empty air or their own skin. And they do, bruise-tight and grasping hard fingerprints into their own thighs. 

Juno, he takes his time. Hieron’s spread out and pinned down like a butterfly; they’re not going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill guys: your comments feed the writing beast


End file.
